


Nightmares Made Flesh

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Gore, Gen, Horror, No Resolution, Snippets, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If dreams can be made flesh then so can nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares Made Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> A little late for Halloween but I am still going tbrough the stuff on my old laptop and didn't find this until yesterday. I think I was going for creepy rather than graphic but I know everyone has different definitions of those. Also this was supposed to be an atmospheric type scene rather than a complete story so there's no plot. Just Buck. And he has no idea what's going on either. 
> 
> I think this was inspired by a scene in someone else's story. My apologies but I no longer recall what story. Must have been a good one though.

The faint scent of death floated in through the open window.  Carried on the wind, it hovered for a moment over the sleeping man, causing him to frown and begin the slow process of waking up.  Then it was gone, as quickly and easily as it had arrived.  So when the man at last opened his eyes, it was with no memory of what had awoken him.

Buck Wilmington grimaced as he sat up in bed.  There was a damp chillness to the air this morning.  Like the chill of the grave.  He felt a sudden strong urge to just stay in bed and pull the covers over his head.  Something he had never done, even as a boy.  He snorted in amusement at his own foolishness as he forced himself to get out of bed and quickly pulled his pants and shirt on.  He’d been listening to Josiah and Vin telling ghost stories last night.  If they knew how spooked they’d managed to get him, he’d never hear the end of it. 

He shivered, feeling colder than the room temperature warranted. He would seek out a hot breakfast in the company of his friends. And if that failed to warm him up, a shot of whiskey served by the lovely Inez would undoubtedly do the trick.  

He grabbed his coat off the chair next to the bed and headed for the door, shrugging into his jacket as he went. But as he hurried towards the door, his hand brushed against the framed picture sitting on the chest of drawers.  It fell to the floor with a loud crash, causing Buck to jump and swear.  He glanced down at the picture of him and the other six men who together were known as the Magnificent Seven.  He had alternately coaxed, bullied, and begged his friends to pose for it one day when a travelling photographer was passing through town.  It was among Buck’s most prized possessions.  Looking at it lying there, surrounded by broken glass, he felt a superstitious shudder pass through him.  He really needed to get a hold of himself.  Go get some breakfast, maybe show JD a few more things about how to be sheriff.  Normal, everyday stuff.

He exited the boarding house and immediately felt better at the warm kiss of sunlight.  He spotted Josiah and hurried over to where the big man sat, just outside the saloon. 

"Morning pard."  Buck called cheerfully as he approached.

"The crows.  Their time is at hand."  Josiah gestured towards something and Buck turned instinctively to look.  There was indeed a large flock of the black carrion eaters roosting in the middle of the dusty street.  He ran toward them, waving his arms and yelling, but the birds just looked at him with dark unblinking eyes.  Buck’s earlier mood of unease began to return. 

Everything seemed to be slightly off kilter this morning and he didn’t like it. He turned back to Josiah, but the ex-preacher was gone. Instead, he saw Mrs. Potter, kneeling down amidst the scattered contents of her morning shopping expedition.   Buck walked over to her and crouched down, about to offer his assistance when he heard a frantic voice calling.

"Help! You gotta help!  Somebody!"  It was Casey.  She was running down the street towards him, her pants dusty and ripped at the knee, her face dirty and tear streaked.

Buck had already risen to his feet and had taken a step in Casey’s direction when he heard Mrs. Potter speak for the first time.

"Don’t go."  Her voice had a hollow sound.  As if it were echoing across a vast distance.  He glanced behind him in annoyance.  What did she mean, don’t go?  He couldn’t believe she thought helping her pick up a few apples was more important than finding out what was wrong with Casey.  The words died on his lips, however, as he caught a glimpse of her face.  For one terrible moment, it had seemed as if two black burning holes were there in place of her eyes.  He shook his head and turned back around, hurrying over to where Casey was standing, hands outstretched pleadingly in his direction.

"Casey.  Ssshh, it’s ok.  Tell Buck what’s the matter."  He spoke soothingly to the distraught girl, putting his arms gently around her.

"It’s JD.  He’s hurt real bad.  You gotta come, Buck."  She shivered and Buck could feel the chill of her flesh through his clothes.  It was an unpleasant sensation.

"Of course I’ll come, Casey.  Let me go get Nathan and then you can show us where he is."  Buck was sick with fear over the kid.  His first instinct was to find JD _now_.   He had to have been hurt bad to get the girl this upset.  But in that case, they were going to need the healer and it would be worth the few minutes delay.

He tried to explain this to Casey when she shook her head vehemently at his words.  She tore free from his arms and began running back down the street the way she’d come.  Buck followed her, cursing.

She seemed to run as fast as the wind.  Every time Buck got within a hairsbreadth of catching her, she’d surge forward, leaving him behind.  He didn’t know how far they’d run, or even exactly where they were when he finally lost sight of her.  He didn’t know what the hell the girl was thinking.  How was he supposed to help if he didn’t know where JD was?  Gasping for air, sides heaving and lungs burning, he had to stop.  Stop and catch his breath.  Stop and figure out what the hell he should do.  He had just about got his wind back when he heard a soft voice calling his name.

"Buck.  Bucklin."  It was Vin.  Staggering through the brush, the tracker appeared to be on the verge of exhaustion.  His skin was pale and clammy.  His eyes appeared sunken, their normal vivid hue muted and dulled.  There were scratches on his face and a streak of blood trailing from his forehead and down across one cheek.  Vin swayed unsteadily on his feet as he came to a stop before the other man.  Buck caught him an instant before the tracker’s suddenly inert form toppled towards the earth. 

He lowered the still figure gently to the ground and put a hand against the tracker’s neck.  He could just barely feel the beat of his pulse.  He had to strain his eyes in order to see the faint rise and fall of Vin’s chest.

Shit.  He didn’t know what to do.  Patting Vin gently on the cheeks, he tried to revive him enough to find out what happened.  But there was no response.  Buck glanced up from his friend’s body and peered hopefully in the last known direction of the vanished Casey.  Nothing.

Praying he was doing the right thing, his heart feeling like lead in his chest, Buck slid one arm beneath Vin’s knees and the other beneath his neck and scooped him up into his arms.  He shifted his grip a bit and slowly got to his feet.  He looked down at the unconscious man in his arms and swallowed back the lump forming in his throat.  Was JD ok?  Was he wondering where his friends were?  Where Buck was? Buck needed to get Vin back to town and then he’d find JD.  The kid could hold on that long.  He _had_ to.  And he had Casey with him.  At least Buck hoped so.  Grimly he started walking, the weight of the tracker in his arms feeling infinitely lighter than the burden of guilt in his soul.

After a while, Buck began talking out loud.  As if Vin could hear him.  He needed a distraction from his aching arms and legs as well as from his terror filled thoughts about what could have befallen JD.

"Chris is gonna find some way to blame this on me if you don’t wake up."  He told the tracker.  ""I think he knows that I sometimes…well I guess there were a few times I wished you hadn’t ever come to town.  But that was a long time ago.  Things are different now.  I’ve seen how good you are for Chris.  He needs a friend. Needs someone like you.  I just didn’t want to admit that at first.  That I couldn’t be the kind of friend he needed.  Or wanted."

"Chris aint a forgiving man.  I reckon you’ve figured that out by now.  So he aint too likely to forgive life a second time around for letting someone he cares about die on him.  And I don’t aim to be the one to bring him that kind of news.  Not ever again.  So you’re just going to have to open them baby blues of yours. The ones that drive half the ladies in this town wild.” Buck paused and looked down at the still figure in his arms.  If anything, Vin looked worse.  His skin was icy cold to the touch and there were dark rings circling his eyes.  Buck was uncomfortably reminded of Mrs. Potter and what he thought he’d seen on her face.

"Of course, even with them baby blues of yours, you’ve still got a long ways to go before you’ll be as popular with the ladies as old Buck."  He tried to force a note of lighthearted cheer into his voice.  The result was ghastly.  He sounded like he was on the edge of hysteria instead.  Time for a different approach.  

"I think maybe we should lock JD up for his own good.  What do you think? That boy is a menace. Always getting himself and anybody unlucky enough to be with him into no end of trouble.  It’s a full time job being his friend.  I think he needs a keeper."  Buck tried to continue, but his voice would no longer obey him.  He looked up ahead and almost felt like crying in relief as he saw the outskirts of town up ahead. 

Buck strode rapidly down the streets of town calling out for Nathan.  The town seemed deserted.  There was no one out in the street except a man he’d never seen before sweeping a broom back and forth across the entrance to the saloon.  A prickling feeling started on the back of his neck and ran down his spine.  Something was wrong.  Everything was wrong.  He had just passed the saloon on his way to the clinic when the strange man paused in his sweeping.

"He’s in there.  They all are."  The man’s voice was thin and high.  Grating on Buck’s already frayed nerves.  He shoved roughly past the man, still carrying Vin, and entered the saloon.

The first person he saw was Chris Larabee, stretched out across a table.  A gaping hole spread across the gunslinger’s chest.  His face was contorted, face locked in a pain-filled grimace.  Nathan was standing over him, muttering something over and over.  As Buck watched in horror, the healer lifted his arms, showing the stumps where his hands used to be.  Tears the color of blood were rolling down his cheeks.  Buck felt the bile rise in his throat.  He looked around the saloon.  Bodies were strewn everywhere.  He became aware of the stench of blood and death all around him.  The urge to vomit became almost overpowering.  He had almost forgotten about the tracker in his horror at the carnage all around him when he felt Vin stir.  The blue eyes fluttered open and gazed at Buck desperately.

"You gotta stop this, Buck.  I came back to tell you."  Vin was so weak, his voice was the merest whisper.  

Buck stared down at him, still reeling from shock. 

"Came back?  To tell me?"  Buck repeated dumbly.

"Aint got much time.  Listen."  The tracker’s voice was frightening in its intensity.  But before he could continue, Buck caught sight of Casey and began making his way over to her, desperate to find out what had happened to JD.  Why the world had suddenly turned upside down.  Why everyone was bleeding.  Dying.

Vin clutched the front of Buck’s coat with feeble hands.  "Listen."  He insisted fiercely.  Buck hesitated and looked down. 

"You have to stop them.  You’re the only one who can."  The tracker drew in a deep, quivering breath.

"What do I do, Vin?"  Buck asked.  He was willing to listen to anything that might put a stop to this madness.  He leaned over and put his ear close to the tracker’s lips.  The screams and noise seemed to have increased steadily since Vin had begun talking.  Buck could hardly make out the words.

"Have to…not let…JD is…when they…make sure…"  Vin’s words were lost in a maelstrom of noise and confusion.  The terrified look in the tracker’s eyes made Buck’s soul shrivel in fear.  What was going on here?  He started making his way out of the saloon, hoping it would be quieter outside, when he tripped over something in his path.  He could feel himself falling.  Could feel Vin being hurled out of his arms by the force of it.  Knew that all was lost if he didn’t hold onto him.  Knew that this nightmare would never end. 

"NO!!!"  he shrieked as he fell endlessly into the waiting darkness.

***************************

Buck Wilmington yawned and stretched as he opened his eyes the next morning.  He had the nagging feeling there was something he should remember.  What had woken him?  Glancing out the window, he saw that it was far earlier than he usually got up.  He shivered a bit.  The room was cold. 

He hurried out of bed and into his clothes.  Still bothered by the feeling that he was forgetting something, something important, he didn’t watch what he was doing as he pulled on his coat in an effort to ward off the strange chill he felt.

The sound of shattering glass made him jump.  He frowned down at the picture that had been on his dresser.  He could have sworn that he’d already broken that frame once before.  He didn’t like the strange creeping sensation that came over him at the thought.  He needed to go find something to eat and maybe some congenial conversation.

He exited the boarding house and the first person he saw was Josiah. 

"Morning, pard."  Now why did he feel like he’d already been through this once before?

"The crows.  Their time is at hand.’  Solemnly, the ex-preacher raised a hand and pointed.  Buck turned to look and at the sight of the glistening black plumage, he suddenly remembered.  Remembered everything.  And knew he couldn’t stop it from happening. 

"NO!!!!!"  Buck sank to his knees in the middle of the street, keening like a thing gone mad.  And perhaps he had.  Perhaps it was better that way.

The End


End file.
